Control
by LaylaBinx
Summary: Merritt has always wondered why Daniel was such a control freak. The real reason paints a pretty dark picture. No slash, just bromance. Mentions of child abuse and neglect so please don't read if this offends you!


**Uhh...so I actually wrote this back of the summer and lost it in the depths of my old laptop. Having just now found it, I decided to post this! The whole reason I wrote this was because a friend and I were talking after watching this movie and she mentioned something about Daniel being a control freak and it kinda snowballed from there. Also, it was inspired by that scene in the holding cell when he slaps the cuffs on Dylan: the expression on his face looks terrified and a plot bunny was born from the panicked reaction of being lunged at by an adult. I'm a terrible person -.-; So yes, there are mentions of child abuse and neglect in this story so if that is going to bother you, please turn away now! Hope you all enjoy though! :D**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing =/**

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Contrary to popular belief, Merritt McKinley could not read minds. True, he proudly claimed the title of mentalist, hypnotist, and over all body language expert. He could convince a person to do something they would normally never do, say things they would never say, and generally just get in their heads and twist and mold them the way he wanted. In spite of all of this though, Merritt was most assuredly not psychic. He had no idea what next week's winning lottery numbers were going to be, he didn't know where Jimmy Hoffa was buried, and he certainly couldn't give you your yearly horoscope reading.

What he could do, however, was read people. He was good at it, had been ever since he was a kid. Hell, he knew his mother was having an affair with the postman just because of the shade of lipstick she put on in the morning before he got on the bus for school and he knew his father was embezzling money from his company because of that funny little twitch he developed just below his left eyes whenever he was looking over the bills at the kitchen table. The skill had started early and he'd spent his entire life crafting it into an art form. The hypnotism and smoke and mirrors that went along with his act were mostly just for show; he already knew what the person wanted to hear, what they wanted to see, the secrets they kept. A person's life story could play across their face in the few seconds it took them to walk from their seat to the stage and all Merritt really had to do was watch.

So needless to say, it was a little bit shocking when he brother swindled him out of all of his money and cleaned him out before disappearing off to South America. Merritt wasn't so much pissed about the money (that could be replaced) or the fact that his brother had betrayed him (they had always clashed as kids and his brother was always looking to make a quick buck). No, what really pissed Merritt off was that he hadn't seen it coming. They had worked together for years, Merritt putting on the shows and his brother handling the management. Merritt thought he knew absolutely everything there was to know about his brother; he knew his expressions, his moods, the thoughts he expressed both openly and held inside. So that morning, when he woke up in an empty apartment with an empty bank balance, the only thing Merritt could think to say was, "oh God dammit…"

The next few years had been a cycle of dwindling fame, smaller shows, and turning to a form of con artistry to keep a roof over his head. Rather than the usual crowd, Merritt worked bars and nightclubs, using his skills to attract small groups of people who were interested in seeing a few bar tricks. From there, Merritt would just watch, pick out the one in the crowd who had the most to hide and start picking apart their secrets in front of the room. Cheating boyfriends, unfaithful wives, white collar criminals who had been slowly but surely siphoning money from larger accounts and putting it in their own. It was easy really, you just had to know what to look for, the tells that people don't realize they're giving. Oddly enough, most people didn't appreciate having their deep, dark secrets bared to a room full of strangers and were willing to pay a pretty handsome fee to get Merritt to shut the hell up and drop the subject. It wasn't the most honest living in the world, but hey, it kept him from sleeping on the street.

Then he had gotten that card and he'd ended up at that apartment and met the others. Then he had found out they were all destined to be part of something bigger than all of them. Bigger than sketchy bars and seedy street corners, bigger than cheap tricks and slight of hand. They saw the blueprints, the plans, the instructions. They had been called there for a reason. In a few short hours, he was no longer just Merritt McKinley, hypnotist and mentalist and body language expert. He was a Horseman, one of four, and they were going to change the world.

It only took a few days for Merritt to figure out almost everything there was to know about the other Horsemen; it was as if they had told him their entire life stories without ever saying a word. Henley was the easiest because her expressions were so open and unbarred. She smiled with her entire face, all the way up to her eyes, and her emotions played prominently across her face like a neon sign. She wore her heart on her sleeve, her moods on her face, and Merritt had her almost completely figured out within two days.

She was the only daughter of a loving middle class family with a wholesome, all-American upbringing and a good education; Merritt wouldn't even be surprised if there was a white picket fence and a dog tossed in the mix. She had never been fat growing up, just a tiny bit bigger than the other twiggy girls at her school who were on the cheerleading and dance teams. In place of that, Henley had discovered she had a talent for theatrics and had been heavily involved in the school's theater group. Somewhere in the midst of all that, she discovered she was good with her hands, double-jointed in her wrists and shoulders, and could get out of almost anything. The mental image of Henley practicing by getting her friends to tie her up as tight as they could and see how fast she could escape made Merritt smirk. Like him, she had perfected and refined her skills for years, making a name for herself as an escape artist and putting on shows for sold out audiences all over the country. She had gotten her card the same time as everyone else and had been eager for a new adventure.

Jack had been next on his list. The boy was a bit harder to figure out than Henley, a little more guarded and closed off, but not impossible. While he may not be as open as Henley, he smiled easily and was charismatic and likeable, if maybe a little bit naïve. To him, the new group name, the blueprints, the plans for the heists, it all seemed like something out of a movie that he was getting to be a part of. Everything was exciting and new, daring and exhilarating. It was all a game for now, the severity and danger of what they were doing was far away and untouchable at the moment.

If Merritt had to guess, he'd say Jack was the youngest of at least two, maybe three older siblings. The perpetual 'little brother' of any group he was in. Jack's father had probably split when he was a baby, leaving his mother alone to raise the kids all on her own. She worked hard, multiple jobs at a time in order to keep a roof over their heads and clothes on their back. The meant Jack was more than likely a latchkey kid, coming and going at all hours with no one home to keep an eye on him. Merritt figured Jack probably grew up in a rough neighborhood, a place where you had to be street smart in order to survive. That was how he had figured out how to pick locks and gotten into the slight of hand. It started off simple at first, card tricks and memory games, typical street magic used to make a quick buck. The con artistry had come a bit later, more than likely out of necessity, and it became a form of supplemental income for his family. Once again, not the most honest living but it kept food on the table so who was anyone else to judge?

Merritt had to give him credit, the kid was good. The first time they met, the kid had shaken his hand and made off with his watch before Merritt ever realized it had happened. It was probably ten minutes later when he finally looked down and realized it was missing. Jack had handed it back with a cheeky grin and Merritt had made a mental note to start keeping tabs on all his valuables anytime the boy was in the same room as him.

The only one that Merritt absolutely could not get a read on was the last member of their group, the cocky and arrogant J. Daniel Atlas. Whereas he had figured out the other two in a matter of days, it had been almost four months and Merritt had _nothing _on the younger magician. He kept his emotions in check at all times, his expressions were short and fleeting, and he was more closed off than a high profile crime scene. Merritt had employed nearly every trick he knew when they first met to try and figure out what was going on behind that cool and impassive expression on Daniel's face and had come up empty-handed every time. Daniel gave him absolutely nothing, never revealed anything about himself unless it was completely mandatory and then, it was only the bare minimum. He kept the others at a distance, kept his thoughts to himself, and showed Merritt only what he wanted him to see, nothing else. It pissed him off more than he thought possible.

Maybe it was because it reminded him so much of his brother right before he had robbed him blind. He hadn't seen that coming even though he'd been looking directly at him for years. Daniel was the same way. Merritt had to hand it to him, Daniel was an expert showman. He was charismatic, magnetic, and compelling enough to keep anyone interested. He could command an entire room with very little effort, draw all eyes on him, but he would never actually show anything that he didn't want his audience to see. There were no slip ups, no cracks in the exterior, Daniel was smooth and polished like a piece of marble and just as hard to see through. Watching him was like watching a trick take place between two mirrors: you were never sure what was real and what was the reflection. That was exactly what Daniel was, just a reflection of the world around him. He kept his demeanor calm and impassive and let the others reflect themselves off of him.

Henley was the only one of their group who could even get close to him. Merritt knew their history without having to be told. As he'd found out already, Henley wore her heart on her sleeve and it didn't take a rocket scientist to know she was in love with Daniel. Of all of them, she was the only one who ever attempted to call him on his bullshit while trying to figure it out as well. When she accused him of being a control freak one day during a practice, Daniel had simply shrugged and said he needed to be in control if they hoped to pull any of this off. _Someone needs to be professional_ he had told them with a quick and all together emotionless smirk. Daniel thought it would make them a better team; Merritt just thought it made him an asshole.

It wasn't that he didn't like Daniel; he had no reason to dislike him or be openly hostile with him. Sure, Daniel came across as kind of a dick most of the time but he was easy enough to work with (even if he insisted on having the last word in everything) and his performance was beyond compare. Even working right next to him, Merritt couldn't figure out some of his tricks. Daniel approached magic like it was as natural as breathing, conjuring his tricks and weaving his illusions like a master wizard in the body of a twenty-something year old. It was stunning really. So no, Merritt didn't hate Daniel per se, but he hated that he couldn't figure him out.

A good majority of the clashing between them was constructed on Merritt's part in an attempt to see a crack in the younger man's exterior, to see him falter just slightly and see beneath the mask he wore in front of the world. Daniel would get irritated with him, Merritt would egg him on, and they would butt heads like old rivals but during all of it, Daniel never wavered. It was like trying to get an oil painting to flinch, it just didn't work. And it was God damn frustrating.

Merritt knew there had to be a reason behind it, some explanation as to why Daniel came across as a controlling asshole with that perpetual smug smirk plastered across his face like he knew a deep, dark secret that he would never tell. The kid was still young, mid-to late-20s as far as Merritt could see; he shouldn't be this uptight all the time. There was a distinct hardness to his eyes though, Merritt noticed that almost instantly when they first met. Daniel may have the outward appearance of a young man but his eyes were sharp and cold like someone who had seen way too much of the world in a short amount of time. He should be cutting up with Henley and Jack in their time between shows, laughing and joking and enjoying their success; not running the thing like a ringleader. Merritt vaguely wondered if the younger man ever had fun as a kid or if he came out already ordering people around like he knew what he was doing. There had to be a reason behind all of it, Merritt just wasn't sure what.

Merritt was a patient man though. True, it pissed him off no end that he couldn't figure out the younger magicians secrets right away like he had the others but it wasn't a deterrent. He could wait with the best of them, biding his time until the chink in the armor showed itself. There had to be some kind of trigger, a fault line or a hidden crack that he just hadn't seen yet. It always showed in the end though, that's one thing he'd discovered about his skills early on. No matter how hard someone tried to hide something, they always gave it away in the end, most of the time without them even realizing it. So Merritt could be patient for now; all he had to do was watch and wait.

**OOOOO**

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait very long. The crack came a little over a month later, just after their first big show as the Four Horsemen. They had performed to a sold out crowd, dazzling the audience with daring escapes, mind-boggling illusions, and feats of magic that were beyond compare. There was no heist that night, no ulterior motives just yet. They needed to build a name for themselves first before they tackled the big fish. The show had been a remarkable success, a standing ovation before the intermission and another one at the end of the show. The crowd adored them, they couldn't get enough, and just like that, the Four Horsemen became a household name within the span of a two hour performance.

The typical meet-and-greet followed their performance and the four illusionists found themselves swarmed with excited and baffled fans from the show. Henley regaled a small crowd with the story of her last minute escape from a wooden crate tossed into a wood chipper and Jack indulged a small group of children by showing them a few easy card tricks that they could show off at school the next day. Daniel remained professional and well polished as he spoke with the fans, bantering with them and giving playful winks to some of the pretty girls in the crowd. Through all of it though, his back remained ramrod straight and his demeanor hardly ever faltered. Merritt entertained a small group of women by pretending to hypnotize all of them into giving him their numbers before they left, telling them he would make sure they thought they had the best night of their lives by the time it was all over.

The lingering crowd dispersed slowly after that and the Horsemen made their way around the building to the vehicle parked in the back parking lot. There were still a few people milling around the emptying lots, looking for their cars, talking with friends, and savoring the last bit of the night before they left to go home. They were almost to the car and waving their last goodbyes to the fans when it happened.

Out of one of the crowds, a man lunged forward, singling Daniel out of the four. The man was obviously drunk, staggering and weaving as he walked, but he had the element of surprise on his side and managed to get close enough to grab Daniel before any of them saw it coming. "You cocky little shit!" He snarled viciously, grabbing two fistfuls of the younger man's shirt and shaking him hard like a rag doll. There was an uproar of alarmed confusion, women screaming and men calling for the security guards nearby.

Merritt reacted without thinking, grabbing Daniel by the back of the shirt and jerking him out of the other man's grasp. He pushed Daniel behind him and stepped in front of him, putting a physical barrier between the younger man and his drunken assailant. He glanced back briefly to assure himself that Daniel was safely out of reach from another attack and that's when he saw it.

There was a look of fear on Daniel's face. His mask had slipped, the cracks had shown and widened, and for once, in the entire time they had known each other, Merritt saw real emotion on the younger magician's face. It was the eyes mostly, wide and startled like a deer caught in the headlights; it radiated outward from there. The look of abject terror on Daniel's face was startling enough but what was worse was that Merritt suddenly realized it had nothing to do with the raving drunk in front of them. The fear in Daniel's eyes was old, deep-seated and long developed, a conditioned response to physical attack. It was the classic fight or flight response and from Daniel's rigid posture, Merritt figured he was valiantly fighting the urge for flight.

It all happened in a matter of seconds and suddenly the security guards were there, wrestling the man into handcuffs and struggling to haul him away as he twisted and turned wildly in their grasp. Henley and Jack had recovered from their shock and surrounded Daniel on both sides, keeping him well guarded in between them in case the man came back. They were both talking at once, asking if he was alright, what the hell was that?, who was that guy?, and a tumble of other questions that all seemed to run together. And then, just like that, the mask was back on, the fear was gone, and Daniel was back to his usual stoic self.

He assured both of them over and over again that he was fine, the guy hadn't done anything. His shirt was rumpled and wrinkled but other than that he appeared remarkable unfazed. His cool demeanor had returned and he appeared calm and collected as if nothing had ever happened. While Henley and Jack may have been placated by his assurances, Merritt wasn't fooled in the least. He'd seen the look in the kid's eyes and knew that it had shaken him more than he would ever admit. A kind of realization began to dawn in his mind, an understanding of something he hadn't thought of before, but he shook it away quickly before he could dwell on it any further. Right now they just needed to get home.

He glanced back at the raving man in handcuffs still being dragged away by the security officers. He recognized him from the show; he was some drunken idiot that had been heckling them throughout the first act, yelling that he could see wires and mirrors and that they were all frauds. Daniel had invited him up on stage as a volunteer for one of their illusions and proceeded to make him look like even more of a drunken idiot in front of the entire audience. Apparently that hadn't gone over too well with him and he was determined to confront Daniel after the show once the crowd had dispersed. It shouldn't have been a big deal, from what Merritt could see the man didn't have a weapon and his was so intoxicated he wouldn't have been able to hold up a fight very long but there was something about him that had triggered that fear in Daniel's eyes and Merritt was now more determined than ever to figure out what the kid kept locked away.

Henley called his name and he turned to see the others had already gotten in the car and were waiting for him to get in so they could go. Merritt glanced back once more just in time to see the security guards and the drunken man disappear behind the edge of the building. Satisfied with the departure, he turned and walked over to the car, climbing inside and shutting the door behind them.

**OOOOO**

The ride back to the hotel was a jumble of mixed emotions. Henley and Jack chattered on excitedly about the success of their first show while Daniel pulled up the files of instructions for their next show on his cell phone. He was quiet, but not unusually so, chiming in here and there to something Henley or Jack said and already making preparations for their next performance in his head. The only one who remained silent on the drive back was Merritt.

He had pulled his hat down low over his eyes and was slouched in the seat, pretending to be asleep. He was watching beneath the brim of his hat though, half-closed eyes locked on Daniel and trying to see past his composed façade to the real man beneath the mask. He had seen something tonight, something Daniel was probably hoping he hadn't noticed and something he sure as hell wasn't going to admit to. If he knew anything about Daniel (which, admittedly, was very little) he knew that the younger man would probably voluntarily sign up for a root canal rather than talk about the reality of what happened in the parking lot.

He knew Henley sensed it as well because occasionally she would glance at Daniel from the corner of her eye, concern bleeding through her expression. If he suspected anything, Daniel didn't show it and Henley would quickly either glance away or hide her concern with an easy smile or a witty remark anytime he looked her way.

Their hotel was only a few blocks away from the theater but the ride gave Merritt plenty of time to think and put the pieces together. It was not shaping up to be a pretty picture. Part of him really hoped he was wrong but most of him knew he was right as well. The intense need for control, the cool and often impassive expression, the process of actively keeping people at a distance, it all began to make sense, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

He needed verification before he settled on any conclusions though and he knew that part would be the hardest. Henley had opened up to him on the first day, Jack a few days later, but Daniel had never shared anything about himself with Merritt, at least nothing that wasn't immediately apparent. He kept his secrets better than a monk sworn to silence and wasn't just going to open up and have a heart-to-heart with anyone, especially if what Merritt suspected was true. He would have to find a way to talk with him, get that mask slip just a little bit more and let the walls come down. It wouldn't be easy, he knew that right away, but Merritt was nothing if not determined.

For now though, Merritt sat quietly in the backseat, hat pulled low and eyes hidden as they continued to dissect and analyze every shift and twitch of body language Daniel made. As he had done many times before when it came to the younger man, Merritt just sat still and watched.

**OOOOO**

The liquor store two doors down from their hotel provided a good cover for Merritt's ulterior motives. While the others headed up to the room, Merritt excused himself from the group, saying he was going to buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate their first successful show. None of the others questioned him, it seemed like a pretty straight-forward plan.

True to his word, Merritt did pick out a bottle of champagne from the liquor store shelves but he also rummaged around until he found a bottle of strong, dark whiskey sitting on the bottom shelf. He hadn't met anyone in the world who wouldn't loosen up after a few drinks and he was hoping that by getting Daniel drunk he'd be able to get him to talk. That plan in mind, Merritt paid for the liquor and made his way back to the hotel, paper bags tucked under one arm.

When he made it up to the room, he found Jack and Henley sitting at the table near the kitchen area and Daniel sitting on the couch with his laptop balanced on his knees. Jack was attempting to teach Henley how to cut a banana in half by throwing cards at it and Henley was hitting absolutely everything in the room except for the banana. Daniel had his back to him, the instructions and directions for their next show pulled up on his screen. Merritt resisted the urge to roll his eyes; professional as always.

"Alright, Horsemen," Merritt started as he walked over to the kitchen, barely avoiding a random card that whipped through the air right next to his face. He glanced back in the direction of the projectile and locked eyes with Henley. She laughed and apologized and Jack just shook his head with a smile, trying to give her some more pointers regarding technique and wrist placement. Satisfied that he wasn't about to get his throat slashed with a playing card, Merritt stepped into the kitchen and pulled down four glasses from the pantry. "No more work for tonight. None. Nada. We're done for the evening. Tonight we're drinking. Or celebrating. The two terms are interchangeable really. Whatever you want to call it, alcohol is going to be involved."

He split the bottle evenly between the four glasses and turned around just in time to catch another playing card as it made a beeline toward his face. "That means no more card tricks," he said, walking over to the table and handing both Henley and Jack a glass. "And no more planning for the next show," he continued, stepping up behind Daniel and snapping his laptop shut. Whatever affronted comment Daniel was about to make, Merritt shut him up by handing him a glass and taking the laptop away, placing it on the table. Seeing the protest still building on the younger man's face, Merritt shook his head. "Tomorrow you can go back to ruling the roost as usual but tonight we're all taking a break, got it?"

"Got it," Henley and Jack both chimed in from the table, clinking glasses and taking a drink.

Daniel huffed softly and finally nodded. "Alright, fine."

"Cheers, then," Merritt said, lifting his glass in a mock toast. The other joined him in raising their glasses and eventually everyone congregated in the small living room. Their mysterious benefactor, the one who provided them the instructions and blueprints of their shows, had set them up with enough money to get started and make a name for themselves. The big dogs would come next, a list of names that doubled as targets, but that would take a little more planning. For now, they were supposed to just lay low, skating just beneath the radar while making themselves a household name. Notoriety was more important than sponsorship at the moment; they had to prove themselves first before the next part of the plan could take place. So if laying low included hanging out in a penthouse and drinking champagne on overstuffed lounge chairs, they were just fine with that part of the plan.

The overwhelming success of their first show elevated everyone spirits and the conversations were lively and excited. The influence of alcohol helped with the mood but it wasn't the main factor. Henley teased Merritt about hypnotizing one full section of the audience to do the Cupid Shuffle every time they heard a telephone ring for the next two days and Merritt countered with the whole first row of the audience nearly losing their lunch with Henley's dramatic and (fake) bloody escape from the saw blades she was dropped into.

Jack was trying to make some kind of really relevant point regarding something in the second act but the alcohol had gone straight to his head and he was hiccupping so bad none of them could really understand him. After a few minutes of trying, he finally just gave up and sank into the couch, grinning lazily at the others and finishing off his glass.

The champagne even seemed to work its magic on Daniel, loosening him up enough to crack a few jokes with Merritt and Henley and compliment one of Jack's tricks during the first act. The younger man beamed at the praise and hiccupped in response.

Not surprisingly, none of them mentioned what happened after the show. It seemed to be some kind of unspoken agreement among them not to bring it up and to just pretend like it hadn't happened. Daniel didn't appear fazed by it and he had shrugged it off so quickly after it happened that Henley and Jack probably assumed it hadn't been something to make a big deal of. Merritt was satisfied to let them think that; he was relatively certain they hadn't seen the look on Daniel's face after it happened or else they would have been much more invested in talking about it. He'd already settled himself to take on that responsibility and figured it was probably best to keep the other two out of it for now.

After about an hour, the buzz from the alcohol began to wear off and they were left lounging around the living room in amicable silence. Daniel stood first, walking into the kitchen and placing his glass in the sink. He bid the others a good night and disappeared down the hallway to his room. Jack's hiccups had subsided by then and he was a bit more alert now and convinced he wanted to learn how to escape from handcuffs. It took some convincing but he finally managed to talk Henley into teaching him a few of her secrets in exchange for the banana slicing tutorial.

Merritt watched the two in silence for a few minutes, waiting until they were both good and invested in handcuffing Jack to the table before standing and making his way to the kitchen to get rid of his glass. In its place, he grabbed two smaller glasses from the cabinet and the bottle of whiskey from where he'd left it on the counter and passed back through the living room. He waved goodnight over his shoulder at the other two as he made his way down the hallway, the mixture of serious instruction combined with slightly drunken giggles answering him back. He figured the handcuff lesson would keep them both busy enough to avoid curiosity and any kind of unwelcome distractions.

Daniel's door was closed when Merritt approached it and he gave a courtesy knock out of principal. Without really waiting for an invitation, he pushed open the door and made his way inside. Daniel was sitting on the bed, laptop on his knees again and hair uncharacteristically mussed from having changed clothes. It was odd to see him dressed down in a plain t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants rather than the typical button downs he always wore. Daniel just looked like someone who was born wearing a dress shirt and slacks and would be happy to keep it that way.

Upon seeing the other man standing in his bedroom, Daniel let out a kind of resigned, irritated sigh. He'd realized long ago that Merritt was stubborn as a mule and getting him to do anything he didn't want to was damn near impossible. So other than attempting to physically throw him out (a feat which would be much more challenging considering Merritt was both bigger and more than likely stronger than him), Daniel just sighed and accepted the fact that Merritt wasn't leaving until he was good and ready. "Something I can help you with, Merritt?"

"Hmm, yes and no," the older man said, seeming to weigh the question for a second before walking over to a chair in the corner of the room at the foot of the bed and dropping down into it. He placed the glasses and the bottle of whiskey on the table next to him and turned his attention back to Daniel. "You can help me work my way through this bottle and we'll see what happens from there."

The look on Daniel's face was a mixture of confusion and a little bit of shock, one of the most expressive emotions Merritt had ever seen on the younger man. Apparently, he thought this was some kind of pick-up and Merritt was working adamantly at getting into his pants and he was equally determined not to let that happen. "Merritt, look, whatever you're trying to do, it's not going to work. I'm tired and I really just want to-"

Merritt just rolled his eyes. "Cool your jets, Casanova," he muttered, twisting the cap off the whiskey and pouring himself a glass. "I'm not trying to Jedi mind-trick my way into your bed and ruin you for women or anything like that. If I had my way about it, I'd be having that kind of conversation with that cute little brunette we pulled from section G who did a pretty good impression of Kermit the Frog while she was belting out Pavarotti." He took a sip of the whiskey, wincing just slightly as the burn hit the back of his throat. "I want to talk about what happened after the show."

The flinch was faint, almost completely imperceptible, and Merritt would have missed it entirely had he not been looking for it. Daniel's eyes narrowed just slightly and he leveled his gaze on Merritt. "I don't know what you're-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Merritt rolled his eyes again and took another drink. "The playing dumb act only gets you so far in life, kid, try to keep that in mind. Now the other two may have this unspoken kind of acceptance to let sleeping dogs lie but I've always been more of the mindset that sometimes you have to rattle a few cages in order to get things done."

Merritt stood and poured the whiskey into the second glass, walking across the room and placing it on the bedside table beside Daniel. "Now, you and I can sit in here and drink copious amounts of alcohol and hammer out these issues like men the way God intended or I can commission Jack to pick your locks and Henley to handcuff you to the bed and we'll have ourselves a little pow wow in here with you at the focal point. Which option sounds more appealing?"

"Neither," Daniel snapped coldly, his dark eyes leveled on Merritt as he walked back across the room. "This is none of your business and I really don't appreciate you barging in here and demanding answers from me like you're the president of the CIA."

"Ah, but you see, it is my business," Merritt countered easily, gesturing just a bit with his glass. "I'm just trying to prevent it from becoming the other's business and keep whatever this is between you and me so we don't have a big mess of emotions and feelings when it comes down to working through the performances. We're working as a team here in order to get all this done and that means no secrets from the class." Merritt paused and glanced at Daniel over the rim of his glass. "And kid, you've got yourself a big, huge secret that you're not sharing with the rest."

Daniel glared right back at him, the stiffness in his posture increasing ever so slightly. "Well that's the thing about secrets, isn't it? No one is supposed to know about them; they're supposed to stay hidden."

"Yeah, well, the other thing about secrets is that they can only stay hidden for so long before they pop up and show themselves," Merritt continued, setting his glass to the side. "Like tonight for example."

"I'm warning you, Merritt," Daniel growled, his eyes still locked on the other man. "Drop it."

Merritt sighed, almost apologetically, and shook his head. "No can do, kiddo. My guess is that something from your past reared its ugly head earlier tonight and now it's on a freight line to catch up with you." Merritt shrugged casually like the issue wasn't as serious as it was. "And sooner or later, one way or another, we're all going to figure it out unless you speak up now."

When Daniel didn't say anything to stop him, he continued on. "See, I saw something on your face tonight, kid; something I'm pretty sure Jack and Henley didn't see. Now normally, I'd be willing to let it go and forget all about it but not tonight." Merritt grabbed his glass and took another drink, standing slowly and pacing the length of the room, keeping a good distance away from the bed and giving Daniel enough room to not feel crowded. "I've been reading people for a long time, kid; it's kinda my thing, what I was brought here for. So let me be the first to tell you how Goddamn frustrating it is when I can't get a read on someone." He gestured up and down in Daniel's general direction before continuing. "I've been watching you for months now, trying to figure out what's going on inside that funny little head of yours and I'll give you credit, you have not made it easy."

Merritt turned to face him them, looking directly at him from across the room. Daniel's body was rigid, his eyes narrowed and glaring at him from across the room. He looked every bit like a pissed off cat. "Until tonight, I couldn't find your fault lines and no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't figure you out." Merritt backed off a bit, no hint of teasing or condescension in his voice when he spoke. "I think I'm starting to get it though, I think I'm starting to see the things you're not telling me."

"You don't know anything about me," Daniel snapped, his voice low and sharp like a hidden blade.

"I bet I know more than you think," Merritt countered easily. "The things you don't want to talk about, the past you don't want to relive…" He re-filled his glass and took another drink. "Everyone's got their skeletons, kid. But you're trying to hide an entire Goddamn graveyard and eventually those walls are going to split right down the middle."

"Alright then," Daniel said, snatching his own glass from the corner table and taking a large gulp of the whiskey. He winced just slightly before continuing. "You keep talking about fault lines and reading people so go ahead and impress me. Enlighten me with your skills." Daniel took another drink, his eyes narrow and his voice bitter. "Go ahead and tell me everything you think you know about my life."

Merritt watched him for a long moment, taking in the stiffness of the younger man's body language and the dark flashes that passed through his eyes. It was obvious Daniel didn't want to talk about it, he wanted the entire incident to be forgotten and pushed away like a bad memory. But Merritt had come too far to back down now and he'd let Daniel have the upper hand for far too long. He took another sip of his whiskey and set the glass back down, looking back up at Daniel from across the room.

"Alright, well, taking into account your almost psychotic need for control all the time, I'm guessing your childhood wouldn't exactly win any awards on ABC Family." When Daniel didn't say anything, Merritt continued. "You dealt with a lot of uncertainty, lots of chaos and doubt; that's why you crave control now because you never had it when you were a kid."

Daniel took another large drink from his glass, his eyes still narrowed at Merritt. "Go on."

Encouraged, Merritt did just that. "So my guess is that a good majority of this came from the influence of a Triple A father." Seeing the slightly blank look on the younger man's face, he decided to elaborate. "Abusive, Alcoholic Asshole. One of those who should have never had children in the first place but it happened anyway; probably some kind of CEO or corporate lynchpin or some other bullshit suit job that left him no time for kids or a family. Anyway, somehow your mom gets pregnant with you, refuses both abortion and adoption, and suddenly pops is stuck with a kid he never wanted in the first place."

Merritt stopped and looked at Daniel for any kind of confirmation but the kid's face had become a neutral mask once again. Undeterred, he continued. "It probably didn't start off as anything physical at first, more neglect than anything. He ignored you when he got home from work, locked himself in his office and pretended not to hear you crying outside the door, probably never paid attention to any of your little finger paint pictures or the macaroni art you hoped to impress him with. For all intents and purposes, he acted like he didn't have a son."

Daniel said nothing and simply walked across the room to refill his glass. He turned and walked back to the bed, dropping onto the corner of it and keeping his glass in his hands. "And?"

"Probably the only time he ever acknowledged you was when he was yelling at you," Merritt continued, keeping his voice as flat and toneless as he could because if he's right, this is a little bit much to point out. "Outright neglect slowly shifted into emotional and psychological abuse; telling you how worthless you were, how you were a waste of space. Guilt trips, emotional warfare, the whole nine yards."

Daniel took another large gulp from his glass and, from the way he was knocking back the liquor, Merritt figured he had gotten to a rough subject. "The physical abuse probably came not too long after that. He'd go to a bar after work, have a few drinks when he got home, and then one thing would lead to another and it would always come to blows." The dark flash that passed through Daniel's eyes told him he was nearly spot on with the assessment. "It was probably only occasional at first, one, maybe two days out of the week. Rough day at the office, some kind of quota not met, and you and your mom were easy targets."

The alcohol had caused Daniel's eyes to become just a tiny bit unfocused but the glare still held Merritt from across the room. "And?"

Merritt shrugged slightly before continuing. It was Daniel's turn to push him, Daniel's turn to force him to face the ugliness of what he was speculating and he wasn't backing down anytime soon. "A few days became every other day, every other day became everyday. Dad probably looked for reasons to take out his anger at first but after a while he didn't need them, he just started hitting."

Merritt sighed and pushed his glass away from him slightly; suddenly he didn't feel the need for alcohol anymore. "I'm guessing you probably put up with it until high school ended and then you packed up and got the hell out of there and never looked back." He paused for a second, leveling his gaze with the younger man across from him. "I guess the guy from tonight sparked those memories again and you were forced to remember a lot of shit you tried to forget." When Daniel said nothing Merritt shifted a bit, somewhat self-consciously, and leaned back in his chair. "So how did I do?"

"Good," Daniel said, nodding slowly and finishing off his glass before setting on the table just a little bit too heavily. The alcohol had made his movements just a tiny bit clumsy and heavy and the clang of the glass against the table was jarring. "Really good, actually." Daniel gave him a thin, slightly tipsy smile that didn't reach his eyes; Merritt couldn't tell the authenticity of it. "Except you forgot about the part where I had a Triple A mother as well."

Merritt felt a tiny twist deep in his stomach that he hadn't felt before. It was like getting punched in the gut. Well, he hadn't seen that one coming…

"Yep," Daniel admitted, picking up his empty glass and rolling it back and forth between his hands. "Dad wasn't the only one in the house throwing punches; mom had a pretty good right hook when she was sober. They would take turns most of the time: dad would slap me around a bit when he got home and then he'd move on to my mom and then she'd get pissed because he'd hit her again so she'd come and take it out on me." Daniel laughed softly but the sound was hollow and the expression on his face was cold and lifeless like a doll. "I got double the fun when I was a kid. Lucky me, right?"

Merritt tried to think of something he could say in response but Daniel pushed forward without waiting for him to speak.

"Oh," Daniel exclaimed, setting the glass aside as he made his second point. "And you were wrong about me hanging out until after high school. I left home when I was fourteen." At Merritt's surprised expression, Daniel laughed in that same hollow way he had before. "Yep, in between the punches and kicks I managed to figure out my father's social security number and the pin number for one of his bank accounts. Turns out, if you have the right information and you look like you know exactly what you're doing, no one questions it when you walk up and take out $1,500 from an ATM." Daniel smirked slightly but it was humorless and bitter. "I'm sure the bank probably called my father about the transaction, the police might have been notified after all was said and done, but it was too late for them to do anything about it. I took the money, changed my name, and jumped on the first bus out of town."

Daniel stood slowly, a little unsteadily, and walked over to grab the bottle of whiskey from the table. He re-filled his glass, offered a mock salute to Merritt, and ventured back over to the bed and sat back down. For a few minutes, Merritt could think of nothing to say. It all seemed so surreal, so out of character for Daniel to bear his soul like this that for a moment, Merritt wondered if the kid had been playing him this whole time. Daniel had always been a master illusionist so maybe this story was just one more trick he had up his sleeve. But even as he thought that, Merritt knew it wasn't true. The look in the younger man's eyes was too dark and too real to be a hoax. Merritt knew that Daniel was telling the truth and that's what made it so much worse.

"So you were homeless then," Merritt said simply; it wasn't a question at this point, it was a statement of fact.

Daniel nodded slowly and sipped at the whiskey in his glass. "Yep, for about four years actually." If Daniel saw the surprise on Merritt's face he didn't say anything. "I worked my way through the shelters in town, sometimes staying a few nights on a stranger's couch and sometimes sleeping on a park bench. I became street smart after a few months; I knew which side of town to avoid and which side was safe. I also learned that being a street performer could keep money in your pocket but only if you were good at it."

He set the glass to the side and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "There was this guy I met early on who called himself the Amazing Dave. He would always stand on the corner in the middle of the restaurant district and put on free shows for anyone who stopped to watch him." Daniel shrugged a bit and slouched back against the headboard. "I don't know, maybe he felt sorry for me or something because I was just a kid but he started teaching me a few of his tricks. It took a couple weeks but eventually I became good enough to start doing it on my own and making a few bucks here and there."

Daniel smiled faintly then, one of the first real smiles Merritt had ever seen. "I worked out a system and learned how to make my way around town so I could be in a location that had the most foot traffic at any given time. I knew the best times and places to put on a show and what to do in order to catch people's attention and get them to take me seriously. After that, it was all about drawing an audience and keeping them entertained enough to get a few dollars dropped into your hat by the end of a trick."

The younger man stopped then, passing a hand over his eyes like he was suddenly completely exhausted by the conversation. "I scraped and saved for about two years before I finally had enough money to rent this little one room shack above a Vietnamese restaurant. It was cramped and dirty and there were more rats than people living up there but it was off the street and I couldn't really complain. About a year after that I had some guy offer me a few theater shows if I gave him half of the ticket sales. That's how I met Henley and got my first experience on the stage." Daniel sighed and let his arm flop over his eyes. "Everything after that is history; you know the rest."

For a long minute, Merritt said nothing, he just sat quietly and mulled over everything Daniel had just told him. For the first time since his brother robbed him blind, Merritt was honestly surprised by what he had learned. When it came to reading people, Merritt liked to think of himself as pretty hard to shock; he usually recognized certain signs and traits on people's expressions that told him everything he needed to know before he ever started speaking with them. It made his work that much easier and their astonishment that much deeper. But this was a new one. In all the time Merritt had known Daniel, he never once keyed in on the traits that would indicate abuse or neglect because Daniel never, ever showed them. Until tonight that is. Now that they were there, out in the open and laid bare for all the world to see, Merritt had to admit to himself that he was somewhat shocked.

"So there you have it," Daniel mumbled from across the room, pulling him from his thoughts and back to the present. "That's my fucked up life story. Straight out of a fairytale, right?"

Merritt sighed heavily and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He knew he had pushed too far and now it was time to make amends. "Listen, kid-"

"Save it," Daniel snapped sharply, effectively cutting the older man off from whatever he was going to say.

Merritt blinked in surprise and confusion. "What?"

"I said save it," Daniel repeated, sitting up on the bed and fixing him with a glare that was only about a tenth of the power as the one he'd had earlier in the evening. "I know what you're going to do and I'm stopping you before you get a chance. I don't want you to apologize and take it all back. I don't want your pity or your sympathy or your understanding. Apologies don't change the past so don't waste your time."

Daniel opened his arms like he was presenting himself before Merritt. "You wanted to know why I'm such a control freak, why I am the way that I am. Well this is why. I've spent the last twelve years fighting tooth and nail for everything I have and I'm not about to let it go now. One slip up, one mistake, and it's all over; failure puts me back on the street where I started." Daniel continued to stare at him like he was issuing some kind of challenge, the tiniest bit of long abandoned fear creeping into his eyes as he spoke. "I've done the scared and helpless thing. I've been weak and vulnerable." He shook his head vehemently, swaying a bit on the bed. "Never again."

Merritt regarded the young man across from him silently for several seconds. He suddenly had a new understanding of the kid's chosen last name Atlas; the man who held the world on his shoulders. It didn't seem fair that this smart, talented magician had gone through so much shit in his young life but then when was life ever fair? If life were fair, Merritt wouldn't have gotten screwed over by his brother and left penniless in an apartment he couldn't pay rent for anymore. But then if life were fair, chances are none of them would have ever met and they never would have been recruited by The Eye. So maybe life wasn't fair but they had a chance to change it now. They just had to keep pushing forward with their plans.

Merritt sighed heavily and looked at Daniel carefully. The kid was still on edge, wired tight like a bowstring, and the look on his face said that he was done with this conversation now. "So what do you want me to do?" He asked after a minute because he really had no idea at this point.

Daniel relaxed just fractionally and closed his eyes, letting out a long, slow breath. "I want you to forget everything I just told you. I want you to forget about my shitty childhood and my abusive, alcoholic parents. I want you to forget that I was a homeless, teenage runaway who grew up on the streets. I want you to forget all of it and pretend like it never happened." Daniel opened his eyes and smiled bitterly. "I've been doing my best to forget it for twelve years now and I can tell you I plan on forgetting it in the morning too."

Merritt was silent but he nodded slowly. It wasn't the answer he wanted but he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to hear instead. He had already made up his mind not to let this affect their performance or their professional relationship; he never brought up Henley or Jack's pasts and he certainly didn't plan on doing it to Daniel. Still, it somehow felt like defeat and he wasn't all that fond of the feeling.

"Listen kid," he started again, the whiskey pulling out the drawl in his voice a little more than he realized. "I'm not about to go all Dr. Phil on you and encourage you to cry on my shoulder or any of that bullshit but…" he paused and shrugged one shoulder, suddenly very self-conscious and slightly embarrassed. "If you're ever havin' a rough night and feel like workin' through another bottle of whiskey, well…" He shrugged again, letting the sentence trail off into obscurity. It was the closest thing he could think of saying to _I'm here if you want to talk _without completely ruining his pride.

Daniel hesitated for just a second, eyeing the older man across from him with slightly unfocused eyes. Merritt's expression was genuine though, the offer an extension of friendship that they hadn't shared before, and he felt some of his earlier irritation die down inside of him. "Deal," he said simply, nodding in agreement and receiving an acknowledged nod from Merritt in return.

The older man grabbed the bottle of whiskey and swished the remaining contents around slightly. "Well, no need to let perfectly good whiskey go to waste, right?" He asked before splitting the last of the bottle between their two glasses. Merritt didn't want to think about the raging hangover he was going to have in the morning or the inevitable worship of the porcelain gods that tended to follow but for tonight, he could forget about that for a while and drown his past in the burning amber liquor.

They sat in companionable silence for a while after that, neither speaking and no real desire to urge a conversation either. Despite the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, Merritt managed to keep at least a decent eye on Daniel for the remainder of the evening. The younger man hadn't asked him to stay but he hadn't kicked him out either so Merritt took the less strenuous option because he was pretty sure he'd end up face down on the floor if he tried to move right then.

Neither of them really comment on the fact that it's nearly 4:30 in the morning by the time they finished the whiskey in their glasses. Daniel had slumped back against the headboard of the bed, staring up at the ceiling silently with his hands folded in his lap. Merritt had sunk down in his own chair so far he doubted he could get up even if he wanted to. The difference between them was that Merritt had been drinking for many more years than Daniel had and had learned to handle his liquor a little bit better. So when the younger man's eyes began to flutter closed and his breathing shifted into the slow, even draws of sleep, Merritt straightened himself in the chair slightly and turned his attention back toward the bed.

Daniel may not have asked him to stay but it was clear to Merritt that he probably didn't want to be alone either. The kid had a lot of shit going on inside his head and having someone nearby to help push those painful memories back into the little black pad-locked box they escaped from would probably help. So Merritt settled himself to do what he always did whenever J. Daniel Atlas was concerned: he simply watched and waited.

The morning would erase all the words from the night before and they would go on about their lives like nothing had ever happened. But for now, in the pre-dawn hours of their hotel room, Merritt watched over Daniel while sleep erased his memories.

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys! :D**


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